Disclaimer: Although I once had the opportunity to interview Tamora Pierce, sadly none of her books belong to me (well, I own copies of the books, but you get the picture). I can only hope that I have not disgraced them.
A/N: This is my first attempt at a Tortall fic, so (at risk of making myself sound like a newbie) (which I'm not, I might add) I would truly appreciate any (constructive) criticism you have to offer. My apologies for the shortness, but I promise that all future chapters will be much, much longer; I simply had to get everything set up.
Prologue
They had intended to reach the River Drell (and thus one particular village that sat next to the river) by nightfall. It was cold in the mountains, especially at night, and especially in the winter. However, a herd of killer unicorns had other plans, and the village they'd attacked had enlisted the aid of the two mages and consequently set hem back to only a few hours of traveling time. As a result, as the sun began to sink they found themselves in the middle of nowhere with no end in sight.
Their business in Galla was unusual. Normally they stayed in Tortall; but their allies had requested that one or the other of them (they'd not expected both, but rarely was the one without the other if they could help it) to attend a rather prestigious mages' summit, and King Jonathon had encouraged them to go, so they had complied. Now Daine was beginning to regret it; it seemed she had picked up a cold somewhere along the line, which such a long time outside in the cold had done nothing to help.
"Magelet, are you certain you're well enough to be traveling?" Numair asked with concern as she sneezed explosively, then swayed in the saddle as she tried to regain her balance.
"Whether I am or not, there's little sense in us stopping now," she pointed out. "We can't spend the night in the open, not this time of year."
"There must be some village nearby where we can spend the night," was the cool answer. "We've no reason to hurry back to Tortall, after all."
If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not stop at any village near here, Daine's grey mountain pony put in. They have no respect for us, and their oats taste bad.
"I agree, Cloud," the girl replied to her mount. To her companion, she explained "We'd best keep going; people in these parts are none too friendly to strange mages."
Numair sighed. "Well, if you're that determined, I suppose there's no sense in arguing with you. Just don't push yourself too hard; I'm no healer, and I have a feeling neither of us will be terribly happy if you get yourself sicker."
"Don't be silly, Numair. I know my own… my own…" Daine's vision swam before her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to clear it. "…my own limi—" The statement was completed with a soft thud. The lanky man turned to see his beloved sprawled in the snow, unconcious.
Three strides was all it took to reach her and scoop her up, three more to return to his gelding and place the young woman in the saddle before him. He turned once, briefly, to inform Cloud "You'd best be able to keep up," and then was off, driving Spots the gelding towards what he hoped was the nearest town for all he was worth.